We've been flogged at the cafe over the Christmas/New Year period. I feel properly exhausted, but I've been properly exhausted in the past working for absolute tools who don't appreciate good staff. Sometimes, the harder you work, the more these arseholes seem to despise you. Doesn't make sense.
So. Tired. So very tired. And scared, or nervous. Gertrude Street has a reputation. It's a pretty cool street with loads of very good cafes, bars and boutique designer shops, and we have opened a cafe with a very silly name on that street.
Around three months in, we're still nervous. We still have sleepless nights. We still wake up with lightning bolt ideas or flashbacks to moments where we fucked up. We still struggle with maintaining even temperaments. Money is the fucker it has always been. We still have a long way to go before we're going to feel like hey yeah, high five, we did it, good on us. We're a long way from there.
But right now I can't imagine us not trying to do it. Scary as it is right now, there's a secret little part of me that thinks that one day, we will be doing those high fives. Part of me thinks that we might just pull this thing off.
At the chaotic end of another chaotic day, another short review of us (not from a friend) came up on Urbanspoon. This one said: "This cafe lives up to its name... Awesome! The wagyu beef burger is probably the best I've had...ever. The Tuscan pie, delicious. Just found my new regular haunt."
The Dreaded One is doing an awesome job. So is the rest of Team Awesome.
Time for me to go to sleep and dream more cafe dreams.